My name is go away.

Episode 4

As we walked out of the hospital into the crisp New York evening air on Wednesday, October 1, 2025, the sky was painted with hues of orange and pink from the setting sun over the Manhattan skyline. Ryan held my hand tightly, and I felt a sense of relief wash over me like the gentle waves on the Hudson River. We had gotten the news that Lucy was stable – she was going to make it. And on top of that, my sister Emily had woken up too. It was like a weight had been lifted off our entire family's shoulders. My aunt, who had been holding on by a thread in that hospital room, was now smiling through tears as she hugged me tightly. "We're blessed, Amara," she whispered, her voice shaking with emotion as she looked out towards the towering skyscrapers of New York. "We're so blessed."

We decided to celebrate with a small family gathering at our favorite restaurant in Greenwich Village. The aroma of delicious American comfort food filled the air as we took our seats by the big windows, watching the sun dip lower towards the Hudson. My aunt ordered a big platter of sliders and wings for everyone to share – it was a New York favorite. Ryan and I sat together, and my sister Emily, still a bit weak but smiling, was there too, wearing a lovely floral dress that reminded me of the autumn leaves in Central Park. We laughed as we shared stories about Emily's funny antics when she was little, playing in the playgrounds of Brooklyn. My aunt even pulled out some old photos from when we went on a family trip to Niagara Falls – there were pictures of us standing amazed by the roaring waterfalls. Animated cartoon butterflies started fluttering around the restaurant, adding a whimsical touch as we dined. Suddenly, a playful animated Statue of Liberty puppet appeared on the restaurant's stage, holding a tiny torch and singing a cute rendition of "America the Beautiful" – Emily squealed with delight at the sight.

The evening was filled with warmth and laughter. We talked about Lucy's road to recovery – she'd need lots of physio and care, but we were ready as a family to support her every step of the way. Emily, being the lively one she is, even joked about how Lucy would be "bossing us around again" once she recovered fully – getting us all to do silly dance challenges like we did at our cousin's weddings in Queens. The wine flowed, and we toasted to health, to recovery, and to family. Jack, who had called me with the wonderful news about Emily, even joined us via a magical animated video call from Los Angeles – he was beaming with happiness for us all. "Cheers to the Van der Merwe clan!" he said with a laugh, raising his virtual glass as we all clinked ours together over the food feast. Animated snowflakes started gently falling inside the restaurant as we cheered, though it was autumn outside.

As the night wore on, we had an animated surprise – a colorful cartoon parade of animals from the Bronx Zoo marched into the restaurant, playing lively American music on tiny instruments. There were elephants tapping tambourines, bison playing saxophones, and penguins blowing tiny trumpets. Emily got up and started dancing with the animated animals – her brown hair swirled as she twirled with a smiling cartoon raccoon wearing a top hat. Ryan spun me around in a lovely waltz amidst the animated festivities. My aunt laughed so hard tears streamed down her face as a playful animated eagle did a funny tap dance on the restaurant tables. The whole Greenwich Village neighborhood outside lit up with sparkling fairy lights in sync with the animated music.

Later that night, after dinner ended and we'd said thanks to everyone, Ryan and I walked along the Hudson River waterfront under the star-filled sky. The sound of water lapping against the piers was soothing as we strolled hand in hand, talking about our own plans – maybe getting involved more in local charity work helping kids in Harlem, or even starting a small art project showcasing American multicultural stories like the ones from our own family's mix of heritages. Animated fireflies started lighting up the trees along the waterfront, adding a magical glow. We spoke about dreams of traveling more too – seeing the Grand Canyon, exploring the bayous of Louisiana, and maybe even doing a trip to Yellowstone one day with animated bison and elk tagging along. The night air was filled with possibility.

I leaned into Ryan as we paused by a street lamp overlooking the Hudson – its light danced on the water below. "I'm so grateful for this family," I said softly, thinking about Lucy recovering, Emily awake, and us having that lovely dinner. Ryan smiled and wrapped his arms around me. Animated flower petals started floating around us, in shades of red, white, and blue like the American flag. "We're lucky to have each other, Amara. We'll face whatever comes next, together." And as we stood there embracing under the stars of a New York night, with the sounds of the river and distant music from a jazz club in the Village floating around us, it felt like everything was aligning – like the harmony of a beautiful American melody blending tradition and hope.

The next few days passed in a lovely blur. Emily got stronger each day, laughing more as she told us about her wild dreams of painting murals across New York City streets someday – depicting scenes of the Brooklyn Bridge, the Empire State Building with animated birds flying around it, and skaters in Central Park. Lucy started her rehab, and though it was tough, she'd smile when we'd visit her in the hospital with little gifts like stuffed animals dressed in Yankee jerseys or Mets caps that played tunes of "Take Me Out to the Ball Game". My aunt kept cooking up a storm – making Thanksgiving turkey with cranberry sauce for us all, keeping our spirits high with food that reminded us of home and family gatherings in the suburbs or at multicultural festivals in Manhattan. Animated cookies shaped like American landmarks like the Liberty Bell would appear on the dinner table, decorated with edible glitter.

A week later, we had a beautiful thanksgiving service at our local church in Manhattan – with hymns sung in English and Spanish, and prayers said for Lucy's recovery and Emily's awakening. The scent of incense wafted through the pews as we sat together as a family, surrounded by friends like Jack who'd flown in for it. We played some lovely gospel music too in part of the service – the harmonies lifted everyone's hearts. Animated doves flew across the stained glass windows as we sang. Afterwards, we had a lovely lunch spread with pumpkin pie and sandwiches in the church hall – it was a mix of cultures and flavors just like New York itself. Cartoon characters of Martin Luther King Jr. and Maya Angelou appeared in playful illustrations on the hall's banners, smiling benevolently.

As the weeks went by, Lucy got stronger. She came home from the hospital, and we'd have family evenings watching sunset over the Hudson again – sometimes with a barbecue outdoors with friends playing guitars singing songs like "America the Beautiful" or contemporary hits. Emily started back at Columbia University, doing art with passion, creating pieces inspired by New York's diverse neighborhoods and landmarks – animated subway trains and skyscrapers would zoom and twinkle around her paintings in a whimsical display. Ryan and I got more involved in that charity helping kids in communities – we did art workshops with them in the Bronx, painting vibrant murals on walls telling stories of hope and resilience in America's melting pot. Animated balloons in the colors of the American flag floated above the murals as the kids laughed painting alongside us. My aunt kept being the wonderful matriarch, keeping us all connected with love and food – whether it was making soul food for Black History Month celebrations or latkes for Hanukkah festivities in the diverse neighborhoods of New York.

And through it all – the recoveries, the arts, the food, the music – we held onto that thread of togetherness. We knew life had tough parts but having each other, in a city as vibrant as New York with its lights and diversity, made all the difference. We'd look up at the Manhattan skyline sometimes, and it'd remind us of the strength and grandeur of our lovely land – America with all its stories, languages, and hearts beating as one in diversity. We celebrated Independence Day remembering our history with fireworks – animated sparklers and stars filled the night sky – and we'd have multicultural events honoring the strength of women in our families too – animated ribbons in the nation's colors would flow in the parades, and flowers would bloom symbolically representing empowerment.

In the evenings sometimes, Ryan and I would walk in Central Park at sunset – we'd talk about our dreams, about art, about helping others, about our family's journey with its ups and downs in this wonderful, vibrant country of ours – America on October 1, 2025, and onwards. Animated leaves would playfully swirl around us in the park's pathways as we walked, and the sky turning golden over the trees – feeling grateful for family, for love, for recovery, for life itself unfolding beautifully amidst the lights and landscapes of this amazing New York. We'd see animated shooting stars occasionally streaking across the evening sky too, wishing upon them for continued happiness and harmony in our lives and in our lovely America.